


Swear I Could Fly

by freosan



Series: Cascade [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Biting, D/s, Established Relationship, M/M, No plot but lots of feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Title Kink, thanks Prompto for all these feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freosan/pseuds/freosan
Summary: “I want to do this to you on the throne,” Noct says, tearing himself away only far enough to talk.He gets his heels dug into the bed and thrusts up into Prompto, earning himself a moan. “Get you up there and fuck you where everyone can see. Astrals and all. Show them what it looks like to be devoted to your king.”





	Swear I Could Fly

Noct lets himself into the hotel room, and pauses in the entrance, trying to collect himself.

He doesn't know what Ignis is planning, at all. He just knows that today is going to be _interesting_.

He's been trying to reassure himself - it's just some sexual experimentation. The thing is though, normally that would  _not_ be making Noct nervous and off-balance. He likes new things, when he has the energy. But this time it's more than just some position or accessory. Noct has a feeling that to Prompto, this is as important as their first time together.

So. He asked Ignis for help, Ignis being the closest thing to an expert that they have, Ignis who can dominate during sex as naturally as breathing. He was told to go shopping with Gladio, and then come back to his and Prompto’s room. When Noct asked Gladio what _he_ was contributing to this, Gladio informed him that he was going to go off and finish the latest book he’s been reading, while, quote, ‘you three freaks’, unquote, have some time alone.

When Gladio left him, he clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Good luck.” Not reassuring.

Now, as Noct stands in the entryway of the hotel room, bag of groceries in his hand, he’s trying to clear his mind of expectations. They’ve done this before, at Ignis’s suggestion, but it was mostly improvised to fuck some of the tension out of Prompto. This time Ignis wants to make it more formal. Noct’s seen some of this kind of porn. If he shows up and Ignis has Prompto in a leather harness and puppy ears, he doesn’t know _what_ he’s going to do. Not burst out laughing, he hopes.

Nothing else for it. He drops the groceries in the kitchenette and enters the main room.

“Hey, Noct!” Prompto greets him. He’s sitting on one of the chairs at the end of the bed, and Ignis is on the bed beside him. Both of them are still fully dressed and Ignis even still has his gloves on.

Noct expected something a little less… formal.

“Hey,” he replies, taking a step into the room. Prompto grins at him, but it’s the slightly forced grin he uses when he’s trying not to freak Noct out.

“Hello, Noct. Sit down," Ignis says.

Noct drops into the chair across from Prompto, leans forward, and knits his fingers together. “So are we on an interview, or what?” he asks.

“Of sorts,” Ignis tells him. “The first step is always negotiation. When one is engaging in these activities, one wants to be sure that everyone involved is enjoying themselves.”

“I don’t remember this part last time.” Again, admittedly, last time had been more of a surprise than anything. But Noct's jittery enough already without talkingabout things. He'd rather get to the part where he blows Prompto's mind.

“We didn’t push very far, last time,” Ignis says. “And it was risky of me to have gone as far as I did.”

Ignis reaches out and puts his hand on the side of Prompto’s neck, and Noct watches Prompto shiver and glance at Ignis with that little flash of fear in his eyes. He always looks scared when Ignis is doing this; Noct doesn't think he's _actually_ scared, or he wouldn't encourage it so much. So he doesn't really get it.

“I liked it,” Prompto says to the floor. Like he’s admitting something shameful.

Noct doesn’t think he likes that, at all. He leans forward and puts his hand on Prompto’s knee. Prompto jerks in surprise.

“I did too,” Noct tells him. "You looked amazing."

Prompto shakes his head, but Ignis tightens his grip, stilling the motion. Noct gets to watch Prompto’s mouth fall open just a little, and his eyes go glassy.

Noct looks to Ignis for instruction, and Ignis puts a finger to his own lips, just for a moment. He takes note of the careful way that Ignis turns toward Prompto, and runs his fingers gently through his blond hair. It cracks a bit from all the product in it but Prompto seems to find it relaxing regardless.

“We may as well get started,” Ignis says gently, after a moment, and he withdraws his hand slowly. “Prompto, I have the impression that you like to be told what to do, is that right?” Noct watches in fascination as Prompto comes back into focus.

“I guess?” Prompto says, shrugging. “I don’t know, exactly. I just…" he can't seem to think of anything else to say. Noct feels an unfamiliar need to rescue him. But he watched everything, last time, and he thinks some of the things that worked for Prompto are seared into his brain forever as permanent spank bank material.

“You liked when I held you down,” he says, not even bothering to make it a question. “Even though you were struggling.”

Prompto nods and his cheeks turn pink. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“And when Ignis choked you,” Noct adds, tapping his fingers on Prompto's thigh. “And when I hit you.”

Prompto’s tiny moan makes Noct want to grab him and tear him apart. “Yeah. Yep. All of that,” he gets out.

“And when Ignis bit you,” Noct continues.

Prompto nods helplessly. He looks like he might be holding back tears. Noct would stop at this point, normally, because there’s a point where the teasing isn’t funny anymore. But, here, he thinks he's got one of the keys to his friend's mind.

“You like this, right?”

Prompto runs his hands through his own hair, pulling a little bit. “I - yes,” he says weakly.

Noct smirks, and lifts his hand to cup Prompto’s cheek. “Thought so.”

Prompto nuzzles into the palm of his hand, closing his eyes in relief. Ignis lets them sit like that while Prompto gets his breathing under control. Noct thinks he’s starting to get it. From Ignis’s point of view, anyway.

Ignis has a list of potential activities in his head, naturally, and Noct says _yes_ (hair pulling, bondage, _face slapping_ , begging, _denial_ , sweet Astrals) or _no_ (degradation, blood, he’s so not prepared for some of these) or _ew, gross_ (mostly bathroom related stuff that, thankfully, Prompto seems equally grossed out by) to everything on it, but his attention is mostly on Prompto, on the way he squirms in his seat and catches his breath whenever something that turns him on comes up.

"Titles, or names?" Ignis asks.

Noct wrinkles his nose, and Prompto says, "Sorry, I guess not then."

"Wait, no, what do you want?" Noct asks. He grabs one of Prompto's hands to keep him from covering his face.

"I thought - I might like to use your title,” Prompto mutters.

Noct thinks about that, thinks about Prompto on his knees, calling him 'your Highness' in that shaky, wrecked voice he got after Ignis nearly strangled him, and he says, "okay."

Prompto looks at him with the same weird combination of fear and hunger that he usually saves for Ignis, and Noct smiles.

“Excellent,” Ignis says. He catches Noct’s eye for a second, just to show off how smug he is, Noct is sure.

“Just one more rule, Prompto,” Ignis says. “And Noct, make sure you heed this as well. If at any point _either of you_ wish to stop, you only need to say so. If your mouth is occupied - ” Ignis looks sidelong at Prompto, who turns an even brighter shade of pink “ - just tap out, as you would in sparring. Is that clear?”

Prompto nods, and Noct says, “Yeah, got it.” He’s always been a good student, despite Ignis’s nagging, and this is the most interesting material he’s been presented with in a _while_.

Ignis looks between them, and seems satisfied. “Good.”

He shocks both of them, but especially Prompto, when he grabs a handful of Prompto’s hair and yanks him forward, right off the chair and on to the floor. Prompto yells but doesn’t fight it.

“Step two is 'establish control',” he all but purrs.

Noct is used to seeing Prompto recover quickly on the battlefield. He goes down easy but he never, ever stays there. Except here; at Ignis’s feet, he falls to all fours and doesn’t move, except to arch his neck at the grip that Ignis keeps tight on his hair.

Ignis cocks his head at Noct, and Noct realizes he's frozen up. He slips off his chair onto his knees, which puts him right in Prompto's space, and he lets his hands hover for a minute before he puts one on Prompto's shoulder, the other on the side of his head. Prompto pushes into Noct's hand like a dog looking for ear scratches. Instead Noct rakes his fingers through Prompto's hair, messing up all of the carefully arranged spikes.

"He's yours, Noct," Ignis says, after a while. “Step three. Tell him what to do."

Noct lets his hand fall from Prompto's hair. "Sit up," he says quietly. His voice comes out lower, and rougher, than he expected. He sees Prompto shiver.

Prompto sits back on his heels. He picks nervously at the hem of his shorts, glancing around between Noct and Ignis and the floor, until Noct says, "Look at me." Then he focuses on Noct to a degree that's almost scary, like Noct is a target on the range.

Noct stands up, and Prompto's head lifts to watch him, but he otherwise stays in position.He takes his time looking Prompto over, watching the blush spread down his neck and under his shirt. His friend must be blushing all the way down to his chest by now; Noct's seen it before. He keeps his eyes on Prompto as he moves over to the empty bed and sits down.

He licks his lips, suddenly aware that he doesn't know what happens at this point; he's so used to Prompto being the one to reach out, to kiss him and start pulling his clothes off. He wonders if that's what Prompto wants to do, now, or if Prompto would rather he take the active role. That's what they did before. But Ignis planned it that way. Noct thinks he'd better find his own way of doing this.

"C'mere," he says, clicking his fingers. "Don't stand up."

Prompto shuffles forward on his knees, and in Noct's imagination he can see him approaching the throne this way, like ancient lords petitioning the crown. It's an unexpected thought, and he doesn't know if he likes it. But he beckons Prompto forward until he's bracketed by Noct's knees.

Noct reaches out and grabs his chin, angles his head up like he's seen Ignis do. Prompto looks up at him, with his messy hair, and his blush, and his pupils blown out with lust, and his mouth slightly open, and Noct feels arousal spiral from his chest down to his groin. He closes his eyes for just a moment and takes a shaky breath.

Damn. If he was going to tell Prompto to get naked, he should've done it before he got so close. Now it'll be awkward. "Take your shirt off," he says instead. Prompto's fingers curl in the hem of his t-shirt, but then he hesitates.

Noct knows that Prompto's nervous about his body, but he also remembers that Prompto stops caring when he's sufficiently turned on. So he grabs a handful of hair at the back of Prompto's head, another trick from Ignis, and says, " _Now_."

This time Prompto moves instantly, and Noct has to release him so he can throw the shirt over his head. Behind him, Ignis tuts and picks it up to hang over the back of a chair. Noct only glances at him long enough to note the movement, but he gets a brief smile, as well. So far, so good, he thinks.

He slides his hand back into Prompto's hair, and uses that grip to pull him up onto his knees. Prompto gasps and follows him easily. He's even closer now, nearly pressed against Noct's chest, and Noct can reach down and trace his fingers up Prompto's side with his free hand. He does that a few times, making Prompto giggle helplessly.

"Noct," he whines, and Noct grins.

"What? Too much already?"

"No way," Prompto insists, "not even cl-" Noct cuts him off by pinching his nipple as hard as he can, and Prompto's sentence ends in a groan.

"That was fun," Noct says. It gets a tiny little laugh out of Prompto, and while he's relaxed, Noct traces gentle fingers across his chest and grabs and twists the other one. This time he doesn't let go when Prompto complains, and within a few moments, he's treated to Prompto's face twisting as the pain sets in.

He's seen Prompto in pain before, of course, they fight together too often for Noct to have missed it. He's never thought it was hot. He's not that twisted. This, though, watching Prompto try to lean towards his fingers and failing when he hits the limits of the grip in his hair, hearing him whimper when Noct changes the pressure… this, he likes. He's already trying to figure out what else he can do to make him sound like this. He wonders if he can get Prompto to cry.

He wonders if he'll like that, too.

He lets go, and Prompto takes a short, heavy breath. When he meets Noct's eyes again, he's slipped into that half-dazed expression that Ignis pulls from him so easily. Noct smiles, quietly, in triumph.

"Get my boots off," he says, and lets Prompto go, leaning back on the bed to watch him.

Prompto's quick about that, too, his hands steady in that way that Noct knows means he's controlling his nerves, like when he's aiming for a sniper shot and he has to time even his breathing. He fights with Noct's sloppy double knots, pulls his shoes off, removes each sock carefully, sets them aside, and sits back on his knees to look up at Noct again. He still looks sort of dazed and there's a definite tent in his jeans.

Noct could get used to this.

"Good boy," he murmurs. Prompto looks surprised for second, and then he lowers his eyes, and bounces a little on his heels. Noct thinks he likes that, too.Just for the hell of it, he grabs the back of Prompto's head, leans down, and kisses him.

He and Prompto are good at kissing by now, well practiced in what they like - or at least Noct thought so. This is something else. Prompto grabs Noct's thighs to keep himself upright, and Noct can feel him shivering all the way down to his fingertips. And that's before Noct dips his tongue into Prompto's mouth. It's not that he's ever quiet, but the long, low sigh of contentment is new. It's a long time before Noct can bring himself to pull away, and when he does, they're both breathing heavy.

"Okay, stand up." Noct waits until Prompto is just barely on his feet, reaches out and grabs him by the belt loops, pulling him forward. Prompto squeaks. It's weirdly appealing.

Noct settles his chin against Prompto's stomach and looks up at him. "I want you to go to the bathroom, get the lube, and get undressed."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Prompto says shakily. "You do have to let me go, though."

Noct pulls him harder instead and kisses his stomach, right over the stretch marks he knows Prompto hates. Prompto huffs a laugh, but he looks nervous, so Noct does it again, and then he gently bites Prompto's hip right above his jeans.

Prompto hums, and Noct takes that for encouragement to sink his teeth deeper into Prompto’s flesh. He keeps increasing the pressure, slow and steady, until he hears that same, low sigh from before. Yeah, he _likes_ that sound.Prompto’s hands land on his shoulders and grip tight. Noct can feel his cock pressing hard against his shoulder, and the tiny movements as he looks for friction. He holds there for a little while, so deep he can feel the layers of skin sliding between his teeth, and he drags his mouth away before he releases.

Then he lets go and slaps Prompto on the ass. “Okay, _now_ you can go.”

“Oh, _not fair_ ,” Prompto complains, but he goes, and Noct sees him rubbing the bruise he left him as he does.

While Prompto’s in the bathroom, Noct stands up and starts undressing himself, making quick work of his jacket and shirt while Ignis helps him out of his shorts and boxers. When Ignis stands up, he’s smiling, and Noct finds himself returning it.

“You’re doing well,” Ignis tells him.

“This is weird,” Noct replies. “But… I kinda like it?”

Ignis chuckles. “You’re a natural. Both of you are. Prompto responds very well to you, also.” He turns and puts Noct’s clothing on the chair, and then hesitates. “Would you rather I stay, or go?”

Noct thinks about it. He thinks about Ignis watching, assisting, _advising_ , and he thinks about Prompto’s face when Ignis choked him out. And then he thinks about Prompto kneeling between his feet, this fragile thing that he doesn’t really understand yet, and wonders how he’s supposed to fit any thought of anyone else into it.

He doesn’t even have to say it. Ignis smiles and kisses him quickly in goodbye. “I’ll be in the next room. If you need anything at all, call me.”

“Thanks, Iggy,” Noct says, in sincere gratitude.

“Step four is aftercare. Give him water, clean him up, and tell him he did well. Take as long as both of you need.” And then Ignis gives him a truly wicked smirk. “There are cuffs, a crop, and a blindfold in the dresser. Use them carefully, if you so choose. Goodnight, Noct.”

Noct is left sputtering as Ignis turns to go. He pauses at the door to the bathroom for a moment, and Noct sees Prompto’s hands, but not the rest of him, as he embraces Ignis and kisses him goodbye. There’s a brief conversation, another kiss, and then Ignis is gone.

Prompto comes out of the bathroom just a moment after, a little hesitant and holding himself like he’s trying not to cover his body with his hands. Noct takes in the sight of him, flushed, pale skin, fine blond hair and freckles everywhere, the lean lines of his legs and abs and shoulders set off by the occasional scar. If he’s honest, sending Prompto away was just an excuse to get a good look at him walking like this, nervous but still, obviously, turned on.

“Come on, come here,” Noct says. He wants to get the mood back as fast as he can, and he thinks touching Prompto is going to be the place to start. He reaches out as Prompto comes close, settles one hand on his friend’s shoulder, the other on his hip, digging his thumb into the bite mark that’s already starting to redden.

Prompto smiles at him. “You really like that, don’t you?” he says. It could be teasing, but it sounds kind of surprised.

“So do you,” Noct points out. “Is it the pain? Or that it bruises?”

Prompto blinks and looks down at the floor again, shrugging. “Both, I think. What about you?”

Noct doesn’t answer right away. Instead he pulls Prompto close, sliding both hands onto his back, and sinks his teeth into his shoulder, just above the collarbone. He lets himself bite harder this time, until Prompto starts making little, whimpering noises, his breath coming fast and hot against Noct’s shoulder. He grabs a handful of Prompto’s ass and pulls his hips hard into Noct’s, and grinds against him so Prompto can _feel_ just how hard this is making him.

Prompto lets out a loud, shaky whine when Noct finally releases him, one hand gripping Noct’s hip, the other pressing the little bottle of lube into Noct’s ribs. Noct laughs. He cups Prompto’s chin in his hand and kisses him softly. “I like the noises you make,” he says.

Prompto groans and Noct lets him drop his forehead onto his shoulder. “You can’t just say things like that, buddy,” he complains.

“Why not? You wanted me in charge.” Noct strokes Prompto’s hair gently, but he still has a tight grip on his ass, too. Now he gives it another firm squeeze and says, “Hold still.”

Prompto stands like a statue as Noct pulls back from him - Noct is surprised at how good it feels that Prompto makes that little whine again when Noct is too far away to touch - and sits back down, leaning on one arm. He watches Prompto as he grasps his own cock, quickly working himself to full hardness, but when Prompto goes to take himself in hand, Noct hisses, “ _No_.”

Prompto jumps and puts his hands behind his back, looking at Noct from under his lashes. “Sorry!” he yelps, and there’s that fear in his eyes again. Noct snaps his fingers and points at the ground in front of him, and Prompto goes to his knees instantly.

Noct's royalty, he's used to giving orders, but he doesn't remember it ever feeling this good to watch someone bend to his will. Prompto still has his hands folded behind him. Noct uses two fingers to lift his chin up. Prompto, still embarrassed, keeps his eyes cast down to the ground. Noct can barely see that they're open under his heavy black mascara.

"You gonna be good?" he asks.

Prompto tries to nod, is stopped by Noct's fingers, and says, "Mm-hm."

Noct thinks about letting him go with that, because he just wants to get Prompto's lips around his cock right now, but he doesn't think that it'll be good for Prompto if he does. He lifts his hand and slaps Prompto's cheek, only barely hard enough to make a sound.

Prompto gasps quietly, his eyes go wide, and he looks at Noct for only a second before he gets nervous again. It's amazing how open he is, right now. Noct can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

He grips Prompto's chin tighter and slaps him again. "Look at me. And try again. Are you gonna be good?"

He lets Prompto have a second to drag in a breath and get his eyes focused on Noct's face. He wonders if he should try to look stern, or angry; getting himself under control seems not that important, though. Prompto looks calmer now that he's been hit.

"Yes, your Majesty," he says.

Noct has just enough self control not to drop his grip or let his mouth fall open, but his surprise must be obvious anyway, because Prompto goes stiff again."Sorry, Noct," he stammers. "I didn't -"

Noct shushes him with a finger over his lips. "No. You're right. It's fine, I… it's okay. You're okay." It is technically accurate, but that's the first time anyone's called him that. That's his _dad_.

That _was_ his dad. Noct hasn't had to come face to face with it, yet, on the run like they are.

Usually Noct's the one to ruin the mood by saying something true but out of place.

Prompto looks like he's half a second from calling this whole thing off, his hands unwinding from behind his back so he can push himself off the ground, so Noct grabs a random handful of his hair and pulls him up to kiss him. Prompto's arms come up around him, and Noct releases his hair and breaks away from his mouth and hugs him tight, breathing deep to try and get himself back on track. Prompto strokes little circles on his shoulders and buries his face in Noct's chest.

"Okay. Alright, I'm good," Noct says after a minute. "Didn't expect that."

"'M sorry."

"Stop apologizing. It's okay."

"Hah, yeah, sure you are, Mr. I Got Critted By My Idiot Friend's -"

Noct pushes him back hard by the shoulders, deliberately cutting him off, and lifts an eyebrow. "You want me to smack you again?"

"Why not? You might get something else cataclysmically stupid out of me."

Prompto has that forced look and slight quiver in his voice that Noct knows, but doesn't usually acknowledge, means he's about to cry. _Not like this_ , Noct thinks. He puts his palm over Prompto's mouth and holds him still with a hand behind his head.

"You did what I asked," he says slowly, making himself admit this next part, "and you used the right title." He thinks for a moment, watching Prompto process. All that happened was they interrupted their flow. Just like sparring. He knows how to deal with this. "We're gonna go again and this time I won't get surprised. Okay?"

Prompto makes a small, affirmative noise behind Noct's hand, and when Noct lets him go, he folds his hands behind him again.

For the third time, Noct asks him, “Are you gonna be good for me?"

Prompto hesitates, but doesn't trip over his tongue. "Yes, your Majesty."

This time, Noct smiles at him. “Knew you would.” And Prompto finally relaxes.

Noct buries his fingers in Prompto’s hair, and hums, pretending to think and giving both of them a little time to settle. Eventually, he leans down to talk right into Prompto’s ear.

“You threw me off.” Prompto takes a breath like he’s going to say something, but Noct barrels on. “I was gonna have you suck me off.” That stops Prompto’s apology or whatever it was, and makes him take a deep breath. Noct nips at his earlobe and gets a small, nervous gasp in reply. Better.

“I still can. If you want,” Prompto says, hesitantly.

Noct thinks about it for a long moment. Prompto’s _good_ with his mouth, looks fantastic with his lips all swollen and his face covered in come. But Noct doesn’t think he can go twice, and there’s something that popped into his head right around the second time Prompto said ‘your Majesty’ that he wants to try even more. “Better idea,” he says. “Find that lube. And get on the bed.”

He lets Prompto go and lays back on the bed himself, propping himself up on the pillows, watching the blonde hair poke up from the floor and Prompto climb up a second afterwards. He stays sitting at the edge of the bed, watching Noct expectantly, and it takes Noct a second to figure out that Prompto’s waiting for him to tell him what to do. He doesn’t have orders, so he waits.

“Come here,” Noct says, and Prompto crawls toward him, but Noct stops him halfway up the bed with a foot on his shoulder. Prompto looks a little betrayed.

“Far enough,” Noct tells him. “I want you to get yourself ready for me. Don’t touch your cock, and don’t stop until I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Noct shoves him a little with his foot, and Prompto’s eyes go wide, but he corrects himself. “Yes, your Majesty.”

It’s easier to hear it, now that he’s ready for it. Easier, and… better. And the thing is, Noct thinks he’d throw most people out of his bed for calling him that. Plenty of people want to fuck the King and Noct has no interest in that. But it’s _Prompto_. Prompto has known him for too long, and never treated him like _the Prince_ instead of _Noct_. Barely ever even called him Prince unless he had to. Having _Prompto_ call him that, having Prompto at his feet, when they both know Noct would never demand this of him…

Noct drops his foot back to the mattress, and nods for Prompto to go ahead. He watches Prompto, bracketed by his spread legs, fumble with the cap of the lube, spread it over three fingers, and hesitate over what direction to face.

Noct lets him figure it out and when Prompto settles on his knees, facing him, Noct smiles. “Good choice.”

Prompto bites his lip, and smiles back, before dropping down to one elbow and reaching back with his slicked up hand to finger himself.

Noct gets to _watch_ , and he gets shit from Gladio for liking to sit back and observe sometimes, but he really loves seeing Prompto’s face twist and his muscles work when he’s penetrated. Prompto hisses as he works two fingers into himself, closes his eyes as he drags them back out again. They do this often enough that it’s not wholly strange, but not often enough for it to be nothing, and Noct knows how tight Prompto can be after a week or two without getting fucked. He has to take his own cock in his hand. With Prompto panting at his feet, he doesn’t need much to get back to full hardness.

Prompto twists his fingers as much as he can, and his breath gets rougher and faster, and he keeps glancing up at Noct, expectant. Noct pushes himself up the pillows to make sure Prompto can see his face, as well as his hand working his own erection. He says nothing. Instead he waits, though it’s torture on him, too, trying not to give in and just get himself off, now, in the face of one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. He waits until Prompto slides a third finger in, and moans despite himself, and pauses with his fingers buried to the knuckles.

“I didn’t say stop,” Noct growls in a voice at least an octave lower than he expected.

“Noct,” Prompto says, but his hand moves, and his voice breaks in the middle of Noct’s name. “Noct, please.”

“Ask properly,” Noct tells him.

“Please, your Majesty,” he begs. “I just want to feel you, _please_.”

Noct forces his hand away from his own cock, stares at Prompto while he drops his head to the bed and _keeps moving his hand_ , takes a deep breath. Brings himself down from the edge.

“Enough. Get up here.” This time it’s his voice that breaks, but Prompto doesn’t seem to care, as he scrambles up the bed to straddle Noct’s hips. Noct grabs him by the waist and pulls him down, first, kisses him and bites at his lips and snakes his hand between them to grab at his erection. Prompto moans and shudders when Noct touches him, thrusting forward instinctively, and Noct feels his cock throb in his hand.

“ _Astrals_. C’mon, Prom,” he says, and lets him go, pushing his shoulders away. “Want to see you ride me. Get me off,” he demands.

Prompto shivers from his spine all the way down to his fingertips. Then he sits back, determination written on his face. He reaches behind himself with his lube-slick hand, and when he wraps his fingers around the base of Noct’s cock, Noct has to control himself very carefully not to thrust up so hard he throws him off. He strokes Noct a few times, getting a little more slick onto him, and lines himself up.

Noct puts his hands on Prompto’s thighs and presses him down, making him go faster, take more. Noct gasps as the heat envelopes him, and Prompto whines, his eyes closing in pleasure. Noct holds him down until he thinks he’s not going to go off like a shot.

When he lets his hands drop from Prompto’s legs, Prompto wastes no time setting a steady, fast pace, bracing himself with his hands on Noct’s shoulders, biting his lower lip to control his own noises. He looks into Noct’s eyes the whole time, with that mixture of fear and want and desperation that Noct still can’t name, until Prompto drives down onto him and moans, and suddenly he can.

Awe. It’s awe, on Prompto’s face.

Noct grips his hips and makes him slow his motions, and Prompto _sobs_ , a loud, needy sound that makes Noct’s fingers dig into pliant flesh. Noct guides him up, inch by inch, and lets him settle back down, only to urge him up again the moment he bottoms out, over and over until Prompto’s thighs are shaking.

“ _Noct_.” He makes it sound like a plea.

Noct drags him down again to sit on his lap, makes him hold still, there, because he thinks he might come just from the sound of his name, said like that. Prompto’s legs give out the second he stops and he falls forward, his hands on either side of Noct’s shoulders.

Noct pulls him down until they’re chest to chest, Prompto’s cock trapped hot and dripping between them, and kisses him in a mess of teeth and tongues and spit and Prompto’s desperate, high-pitched moaning.

“I want to do this to you on the throne,” Noct says, tearing himself away only far enough to talk. He’s talking _nonsense_ , he knows, but as he says it he can see it in his mind’s eye. He gets his heels dug into the bed and thrusts up into Prompto, earning himself another moan. “Get you up there and fuck you where everyone can see. Astrals and all. Show them what it looks like to be devoted to your king.”

Prompto rolls his hips, the most movement he can still make, and Noct shudders as he lifts off the bed to meet him. “As my king commands,” Prompto says into his ear.

Noct moans, then, low and quiet, and he digs deep scratches down Prompto’s back as he thrusts up again and again, and this time he doesn’t hold back. He lets the orgasm rip through him and bites down on Prompto’s shoulder and holds him there, until the aftershocks have left his body, until _my king_ has stopped echoing through his mind.

Prompto’s breathing hard, whimpering with every move Noct makes, and Noct thinks, _He’d do whatever I wanted_. He licks over the bite marks in Prompto’s shoulder, and Prompto hisses and shivers, and he thinks, _I have complete power over him._

It’s hot as Ifrit’s fire and heady as good wine and heavy as his father’s sword, all at once. Noct drags his nails down Prompto’s shoulders and, slowly, pushes himself up to sitting, Prompto still joined to him, still looking to him with that awe written on his face. He’s got tears tracking down his cheeks, his eyes red from crying.

“You’re so good,” Noct says quietly, as he pushes Prompto down to the bed. Prompto sighs when Noct pulls out, but is otherwise quiet, watching. “So fucking good,” Noct continues. “Wish you could see yourself like this. You’re mind-blowing.”

He feels boneless, exhausted, but he has a responsibility, so he crawls up Prompto’s body and lies down beside him, sliding one arm under Prompto’s head and pillowing his head on Prompto’s shoulder. With his other hand he reaches down and cups Prompto’s erection, holding him in a half-fist, barely applying pressure.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, and Prompto whines again. Noct can feel it as much as hear it, with his face pressed against Prompto’s chest.

“Noct, I dunno if I…”

“You can,” Noct tells him firmly. “Or you won’t come at all. But you can.”

Prompto whimpers helplessly and thrusts up into Noct’s hand, his own fingers twisted in the bedsheets, gasping for breath within a few strokes. Noct knows he’s exhausted, knows his legs are going to be sore tomorrow, that he’ll feel it when he’s walking for maybe days after this. But he’s still trying, giving Noct what he asked for. Noct lets him struggle for long enough that he can’t keep a rhythm, lets him think that maybe he’ll have to give up, and then he grips tighter and pumps his hand just a couple of strokes.

Prompto yells when he comes. Noct thinks it’s the most perfect sound he’s ever heard.

He works Prompto through the aftershocks, and then a little bit longer as he gets more sensitive and Noct can wring whimpers out of him with every tiny motion. He only stops when Prompto gasps out, “Your Majesty,” and then he lets him go and turns over just enough to kiss him.

Prompto is _shaking_ like he’s freezing, or like he’s just warming up from being frozen. Noct holds him and wipes the tears off his face and tells him he’s good, because Ignis said to, but also because he _means it_ , over and over again until Prompto relaxes and rolls to the side and tucks his head under Noct’s chin.

Noct falls asleep, a catnap of twenty or thirty minutes, but when he’s conscious again he slowly disentangles himself from Prompto and drags himself off the bed. Water, Ignis said, and tell him he did well. Noct can do that, for Prompto. It’s simple, compared to everything Prompto’s willing to give.

He washes his hands in the bathroom and gets a glass of water and a damp towel and comes back to find Prompto curled into a ball on the bed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he says. Prompto smiles at him a little bit, like _that’s the best you can do?_ Noct sits down next to him, holds the glass between his legs, wipes as much of the mess off Prompto’s stomach as he can, and takes both Prompto’s hands to clean his fingers off, one by one.

“You did great,” he says. “You’re…” _perfect, magnificent, mine._ Now that they’re coming down, he’s having trouble with those words. “You’re great.”

Prompto laughs, a little nervously. “That’s what I like to hear.” He lets Noct shift him around so his head is resting on Noct’s thigh, lets him hold the water to his lips. A couple sips later he settles down with his face buried in the crease of Noct’s hip.

“Thanks, Noct,” he says, and sighs happily.

“I should be thanking you,” Noct says. He puts the water aside in favor of petting Prompto’s hair again. He seems softer now, probably the endorphins wearing off. Noct himself feels like he’s survived three rounds with Titan. Wrung out and pumped up at the same time. He could sleep for days, or he could rule a country.

He wonders if his dad had someone like this.

Prompto hums and curls an arm around Noct’s waist. “Are you sure?” Noct feels him flinch at the sound of his own voice, rather than seeing it. “I’m not fishing, I just know that was weird.”

“I know you hate fishing,” Noct teases him. “I’m sure. It was only weird the first time.”

“Okay. If you say so, buddy.”

“I just did.”

Prompto snorts and sits up. Noct smiles just a little at the way he winces when he has to move his legs. He looks down at himself, and runs his hands over his own body to feel out all the bruises Noct bit into him. The one on his shoulder looks like he’s been savaged by a wild animal. Noct’s kind of proud of it.

“We should call Iggy,” he says. “I hear there’s gonna be steaks for dinner.”

“Or we could stay in here,” Prompto says, his eyebrows doing something complicated that’s probably supposed to be innuendo. Noct chuckles. That’s a relief, that Prompto can be himself again. 

“We wouldn’t survive another round,” he says. “And you need to eat. Go get dressed.”

Prompto grumbles and gets up and heads for the bathroom. Noct stands up himself and throws his clothes back on, then grabs his phone to text Ignis. No details. Just  _we're done, when's dinner?_

At dinner neither of them are any more forthcoming, though Prompto does show off some of his bruises. Gladio shakes his head and starts to say something teasing, but Ignis cuts him off, telling them both, “Well done.”

Noct catches Prompto’s eye, smiles, and gets a wide, proud grin in return. Yeah. He thinks he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> I KNEW THERE WOULD BE MORE PORN  
> Thanks to everybody who encouraged me.


End file.
